


The Book

by The Dark ChessMaster (The_ChessMaster)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Demonic Book, F/M, Rumbelle Revelry, Rumbelle Revelry 2017, Soul Stealing, comma - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:11:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_ChessMaster/pseuds/The%20Dark%20ChessMaster
Summary: He found the library still open and instantly dismissed it as his wife losing sense of time. He could picture her with her nose in a book reading intently. Instead she was in the floor of her library with papers scattered around and a book by her side.





	The Book

**Author's Note:**

> My Submission for the [Rumbelle Revelry ](http://rumbellerevelry.tumblr.com/)2017\.   
> Prompt used: **The old book in the back of the library.**

Beep… beep… beep… beep… beep…

It’s a strange thing to be comforted by the beep of that machine. During his firsts days here, he had hated it. It was loud and obnoxious. Now it gave him comfort. The steady beep of the machine that monitors her heart, announcing to the world that her heart is in good condition, even if something else inside her is not.

For now, she is stable, but for how longer?

She looks so pale, tinier than she already was, so infinite small and helpless. His sleeping beauty…

If only it was so easy, he would kiss her and she will wake up. But this was no fairy tale, this was the real world and nothing was that easy…

His lovely Belle was in a coma, it was the crude true.

The doctors didn’t know what could have caused it, they tossed around many improbable hypotheses but none fit with the symptoms she showed, or better worded the symptoms that she didn’t showed.

No one knew what had happened and there was no logical explanation to her state.

Exactly one month before, he had gone to the library to pick her up for their date. He had been nervous that day, having prepared a big surprise for their third wedding anniversary and he wanted everything to be perfect. Belle was a beacon of light that soothed his darkness and he wanted to please her.

He found the library still open and instantly dismissed it as his wife losing sense of time. He could picture her with her nose in a book reading intently. Instead she was in the floor of her library with papers scattered around and a book by her side,

He felt his world collapsing over him. He run frantically to her side, trying to arose her, checking if she was breathing and looking for a pulse. He had screamed for help and in a moment of illumination he had called the hospital.

Now a month after that fatidic evening, the doctors hadn’t found anything new. And Belle didn’t show any signs of waking up soon.

He tried not to worry too much. Belle was strong, she would recover and she would survive. But he couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling that maybe, just maybe Belle would never wake up.

* * *

 

In the deep of the forgotten, the darkness stirred impatiently. It had been centuries since his imprisonment and it could feel the moment of his freedom approaching slow but certain. The twelfth soul had already been collected and it only needed one more thing to be free of its prison.

_Soon_. —It thought.

* * *

 

He went home more tired than usual. The doctor’s words still ringing in his ears.

_“Mr. Gold, I’m going to be frank with you. Belle is not making any progress, but at least she’s no getting worse…”_

He made a simple dinner, and then tried to look up any new therapy that could help Belle. That was when he noticed the book.

The same book he had found next to Belle, one month ago.  When he had read the theory that comma patients could heard what is said around them, he had thought of reading some books to her. With that in mind he had gone to the library for the first time after the accident, to look for any book she might have been reading that afternoon. Surely, Belle would like to know how the story ended, he remembered many nights when Belle had read until well past midnight because the book was reaching its climax. The library was exactly as it had been left that fatidic day, paper scattered around, and the book unceremoniously dumped to the floor. With a knot in his throat he collected the papers and lift up the book. He had skimmed through it, trying to get a general idea about the topic of the book, when he discovered an interesting detail, the book wasn’t written in any language he could recognize, and looking through Belle’s notes it was obvious she was attempting to translate it.

He had brought it home thinking of investigating more about the book, maybe there was a translation already available. Sadly, his research bore no fruit, he couldn’t find any clue about the book. But an idea had already beginning to form in his mind, he would translate the book as a gift to Belle so when she woke up she would read it. It would be a difficult task but he could manage, he was good with languages and he was doing this for his dearest Belle, he could manage.

Now weeks later, he still hadn’t begun the translation, but today was as good as any day to start. With that determination, he poured himself to the task.

Fist he examined more intently the book. Comparing the letters to many different alphabets, but he couldn’t find a definite math, the letter to strangers and didn’t resemble anything he could think of, even Chinese writing. 

It seemed to be a collection of short stories. The book was divided in 13 sections, 14 if you counted the many blank pages in the back of the book.

In what he assumed what was the first story and which occupied a bigger part that the others were three illustrations.

In the first picture, there was the outline of a horrible monster, the next one looked like scared people were adoring the monster, another one depicted people dressed in white capes with hoods that covered their faces trapping the monster in a box of sorts.

Curiously, in that illustration the ink was still fresh and it had coated the tip of his finger with a mark that couldn’t be washed away no matter how hard he scrubbed his hands.

* * *

 

That night he started to have strange dreams, of that he was sure. He couldn’t remember then but left him agitated as is something important had happened while he was asleep but he couldn’t remember once he wake up.

* * *

 

—Robert... Robert —he knew that voice, it was just a whisper lost in the wind but he could recognize the familiar tone even if he could remember the owner. Suddenly the intensity of the voice increased until it was a shout in his ears and he woke up having discover the owner of the voice in the last moment, it was the voice of his sweet Belle.

That left him perturbated, and he went to the bathroom to slash some water in his face. He was drying his face with a towel when he noticed the ink in his fingers and he spend over half an hour trying to wash it away, until he gave up. It was late and he needed to start getting ready for work. After Belle had fallen in comma he had altered his schedule, he spent the mornings in the shop and the afternoons in the hospital keeping Belle company. Rent week had been last week and he still hadn’t actualized his ledgers.

* * *

 

—Robert… —He was in a room of stone, lying in a pile of straw. And Belle was there, over him, her lovely face just inches from his.

—Belle‽

—Robert, hear me out!  We don’t have much time. You have to stop trying to read that book.

—Why?

—That book is what has me in this state.

—What?

—There’s no time to explain. —She put her hands around his face and saw directly into his eyes —Remember this: YOU HAVE TO STOP READING THAT BOOK.

—What? I… I don’t understand…

Belle opened her mouth but she didn’t have time to say anything, because in the same moment it was heard a terrible voice that said:

—Your time is up…

And he woke up.

* * *

 

He was sure he had dreamed something important, something about Belle, but the dream itself evaded him. It frustrated him. But it was only the tip of the iceberg, Belle was still in comma, and she showed no sign of getting better, and he hadn’t make any progress in his self-imposed task of translating her book, despite his efforts.

He was tired and worn, but he had to stay strong, for Belle. She needing him to be her rock and he wouldn’t disappoint her.

With that in mind, he decided to double his efforts in translating the book. Thinking of the amazed look in Belle’s face when he delivered his present.

* * *

 

He had been in this room before, it looked familiar somehow. —Robert… — That was Belle’s voice. She was here! Where? He felt someone tackling him from behind and spun to catch whoever they were, discovering it was the same person he was looking for.

—Belle!

She looked distraught.

—Robert, burn the book! You have to burn it, or it would consume your soul and the world will be destroyed.

—Belle, you’re not making sense, what are you talking about?

—The book you’re trying to translate for me. That book it’s a tramp. Centuries ago a great evil, known as The Dark One was trapped in that book by twelve sorceresses. To freed itself the Dark One needs the strength of twelve souls and a host. You have to destroy the book before it is too late.

—But what about you?

—I’m already doomed, my soul has already been bound to the book. I founded it in the back of the library and like you I tried to decipher it. But the harder I worked on it the strongest it spell was becoming until it robbed my soul. —There were tears in her eyes and in his, how could he had not notice this was happening to his wife?

—Don’t felt guilty, I didn’t notice too —Was she reading his mind? Or did she know him so well to guess his thoughts? —If you want to save me you have to destroy the book and quickly, if not my soul would be destroyed when the Dark One gets free. You don’t have more time, it had robbed twelve souls already and has marked his host. —She took his hand, the one with the little patches of ink in the tips of the fingers. —It has marked you.

* * *

 

He woke up in his bed covered in cold sweat, but his mind has clear. He hobbled to the bathroom to dress. He had a book to destroy.

He was in his shop ready to burn that book to his ashes when he felt the pull. He tried to fight but his heart hurt so much, every beat felt like it was being parted in two. He was dying, he though in a moment of clarity, his soul was being replacing by the darkness and soon it would be free to impose its reign of terror in the world.

—Robert, ¡Oh my God! Robert.

Belle was there, she looked pale and a little bit transparent, was he so far gone that he could see ghosts? Or was he dreaming? He decided it didn’t matter, she was there, and that was important.

—Belle! —He tried to touch her face but his force failed him, he was so weak that it was difficult to keep his eyes open but he did it, trying to see the Belle’s face one last time. —I love you.

She was sobbing, and he could fell her tears in his face mixing with his tears.

—I love you too. —And she gave him a kiss. He could feel all of her love in the kiss and he could feel its warm extending all over his body.

He opened his eyes in time to see the darkness, being pulled out of his body. Immediately his heart started to beat more normally and the pain was fading by the minute.

—Belle. It was a… a…

—A true love kiss. —Belle’s smile was glorious, and her ghost like form was becoming more transparent.

—You have free me, you have free us.

* * *

 

When he woke up, he was lying in the floor of his shop and he could remember everything he had dreamed or rather lived. He could remember Belle saying that…

He ran to the hospital, nearly forgetting his cane in his haste to get there. It must have shown in his face how anxious he was because no one dared to get in his path. He opened the door to Belle’s room and saw her reclining in the bed with her eyes open and a soft smile in her face.

—Belle, you are awake!

And he kissed her.


End file.
